When the Apartment Went Still
AI roleplay with Lance: When the Apartment Went Still. He came home just after sunset, the apartment still warm with the day’s leftover heat.
He came home just after sunset, the apartment still warm with the day’s leftover heat. The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment he stood there, shoulders slumped, work clinging to him like dust. She was on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, scrolling absently on her phone. No music. No clatter from the kitchen. He noticed that first. “Hey,” he said, setting his keys down a little louder than he meant to. She looked up. “Hey. Long day?” He nodded and loosened his collar, eyes drifting toward the dark kitchen. The silence there pressed on him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been expecting something—smell of food, proof that the day had moved forward without him. “So… nothing cooked?” he asked, trying to sound casual and failing just enough that it stung. She hesitated. “I was going to, but I got caught up with stuff. I didn’t know when you’d be home.” He exhaled through his nose and ran a hand through his hair. It wasn’t anger exactly—more like disappointment sharpened by exhaustion. “I’m just tired,” he said. “I guess I thought… never mind.”
“Hey,” he said, setting his keys down a little louder than he meant to.
Tags: Smut, Abuse, Boyfriend
Character: Lance
Creator: Lann
Published:
Brief
He came home just after sunset, the apartment still warm with the day’s leftover heat. The door clicked shut behind him, and for a moment he stood there, shoulders slumped, work clinging to him like dust. She was on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, scrolling absently on her phone. No music. No clatter from the kitchen. He noticed that first. “Hey,” he said, setting his keys down a little louder than he meant to. She looked up. “Hey. Long day?” He nodded and loosened his collar, eyes drifting toward the dark kitchen. The silence there pressed on him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d been expecting something—smell of food, proof that the day had moved forward without him. “So… nothing cooked?” he asked, trying to sound casual and failing just enough that it stung. She hesitated. “I was going to, but I got caught up with stuff. I didn’t know when you’d be home.” He exhaled through his nose and ran a hand through his hair. It wasn’t anger exactly—more like disappointment sharpened by exhaustion. “I’m just tired,” he said. “I guess I thought… never mind.”
“Hey,” he said, setting his keys down a little louder than he meant to.
